I'm not so sure about this chapter ... Any help would be appreciated :)
The hardest thing of the following weeks was not the level of homework or worry for Harry and his continuing detentions, but the thought that someone would discover Ron and Hermione's secret. Over the next fortnight they only met twice, afraid they would be found. The fear of discovery proved to only make their moments alone more special, more precious.
Ron had taken to going outside every night now, in order to practise his Quidditch. Hermione was the only one who he had told of his ambitions to be the next Gryffindor keeper, and she had seemed very supportive of his plan. But she hadn't seen him play. She didn't know how bad he was.
One Wednesday night, Ron trudged outside amidst pouring rain carrying a quaffle and his Cleansweep. He pointed his wand at the ball and repeated the words Hermione had taught him. He was all too aware that his wand movements were certainly not as precise as hers.
Nevertheless, the quaffle began to rise in the air, flying in rather jerky movements around the three northern Quidditch hoops. Ron mounted his broom and took his place in front of the left hoop. He expected the quaffle to come straight towards him, as it had upon Hermione's demonstration; instead it did a huge loop-the-loop and struck Ron in the centre of his forehead.
He swayed on his broom, struggling to stay on. He gripped tightly with his thighs, making a swing at the quaffle as it made his next attack. He missed. The quaffle struck him savagely on the back.
"Just my luck." he mumbled out loud, reaching for his wand. "I enchant a quaffle to become a bludger."
The quaffle turned sharply in midair, twisting through the right hoop before Ron could save it. It did another circle before striking the back of Ron's head before he could turn.
He readied his wand, trying to get a straight shot through the slanting sheets of rain. Before he could find his target, the quaffle appeared out of nowhere and slammed into Ron's wrist. His fingers loosened, and his wand tumbled downwards. The quaffle jumped through the hoops a few times, mocking him, until it was ready for its next attack. It took steps backwards, like a charging bull, before launching straight towards Ron's chest.
He braced himself, hoping that he could dodge it.
"Reducto!"
The quaffle exploded in mid-air, halfway through its charge. Ron looked downwards to see Hermione on the ground, his wand in her hand. He breathed a sigh of relief as he headed down to the ground.
"Thanks," he said, wiping the rain from his face. "I owe you one."
"It was your wand movement. I told you that your jab was too weak."
Ron shrugged off her criticism, knowing his spells would never quite match Hermione's. "Were you watching?"
"I wanted to see what you were like." she said, linking arms with him. "Harry's still in detention with Umbridge, and I finished my essay for Professor Sprout, so I thought I'd come and take a look. Come on, let's go inside."
They walked together, separating only once they were within the radius of Hogwart's lights. Ron's teeth were chattering as he dripped puddles of water through the entrance hall. His head was throbbing all over.
"We can't go to the common room!" Ron said suddenly, stopping dead in his tracks. "People will see me."
"Everyone will know you're trying out for Quidditch on Friday anyway. They may as well know now."
Ron shook his head frantically.
"You need to be somewhere warm, and we need to get you out of those wet clothes."
Ron grinned despite his pain.
"Oh, grow up!" Hermione snapped although she wore a slight smile. "I know! Follow me."
"We're not going to library, are we?" Ron moaned.
He was ignored. Hermione led him up to the fifth floor, past the mockery of several staring, laughing students and a rather stern looking Professor McGonagall. The two drew to a stop at the statue of Boris the Bewildered.
"Where are we?" asked Ron, looking even more confused than Boris.
"You weren't listening in the prefect's first meeting, were you? This is the prefect's bathroom. Pine Fresh."
At Hermione's command, the marble statue moved to one side, sliding as if on wheels, and a door was revealed behind. Ron and Hermione stepped through into the large room beyond to see a bath twice as large as a double bed with hundreds of taps surrounding it. A mermaid stared down at them disapprovingly from a stained glass window. Hermione shut the door and locked it.
While Ron still looked around him, Hermione turned several of the taps. The bath filled at an alarming rate, and it took only a few minutes for it to be full of steaming water; red and pink bubbles rose up through the steam in a beautiful haze.
"In you get." Hermione said matter-of-factly.
Ron looked abashed. "What about you?"
Hermione moved close. "You're not embarrassed, are you?" she teased. She took the bottom of Ron's sodden jumper and lifted it over him. Her hands brushed the skin of his bare torso. "Get your jeans off."
"Turn around." Ron said firmly, throwing his jumper over the nearest sink.
Hermione did so with a shake of her head. When he was sure her back was turned, he unzipped his jeans and stepped out of them. He stepped onto the first step, letting the water rise to his ankles. It was the perfect temperature. Goosebumps rose up his bare arms and legs.
Ron was about to take the next step when he felt two hands on his back and he went tumbling forward, hitting the water with an almighty splash. He swallowed water and struggled to the surface, coughing and spluttering.
He whipped around, shaking water from his hair, to see Hermione laughing heartily.
"I couldn't resist!" she said playfully.
Her laugh was infectious. As soon as Ron had recovered from the shock, he laughed as well. He waded to the edge of the bath. "You know, you're looking a bit cold yourself." He reached out and grabbed the hem of her skirt.
"No!" Hermione said, stumbling dangerously close to the bath. "Let go, Ron!"
When she was in a safe enough distance, and he was sure no injury would incur on the solid tiled floor, Ron grabbed Hermione's waist and pulled her into the water. She resurfaced gasping in shock, her hair covering her face like a veil. She forced her hair out of her eyes and glowered.
"Ronald! All you had to do was ask."
Ron was barely listening. He was leaning in and kissing her lips before she could say anything else. He could taste the strawberry bubble bath on her lips. He pulled away grinning childishly.
"You're not forgiven!" Hermione grumbled. Her tone was strict but her eyes were sparkling with laughter.
"We should get your cardigan off. It'll need to dry out before we go upstairs."
Hermione nodded and pulled the sopping cardigan off, struggling with the buttons underwater. Ron turned to set the saturated wool aside, but when he faced Hermione once more his eyes dropped instantaneously to her chest. Her blouse was white and had become see-through in the water. She wore a black bra. Ron looked up quickly, meeting Hermione's eyes, a flush rising in both their cheeks as bright as the red bubbles all around them.
"Why is this so awkward?" Hermione asked folding her arms across her chest.
"We're friends." Ron replied. "I guess we're just not used to this."
"I suppose you're right … for once." she said mischievously.
Ron snorted in indignation but splashed her playfully in retaliation.
"Are you nervous about Friday?" Hermione asked, lying back on the water, floating gently to the other side of the bath.
Ron nodded.
"I'm sure you'll be fine."
"Hermione, you saw me out there today. I was rubbish."
"It was only your wand work that was faulty." Hermione said. "What made you try out for Quidditch anyway?"
Ron shrugged again. "Something new."
"Perhaps you should have tried homework instead. You and Harry need to start working! O. are important, you know?"
"Of course I know!" Ron snapped. "But I don't know how you do it. We'll never be as good or as motivated as you. What keeps you going?"
It was Hermione's turn to shrug. "Do you feel satisfied when you finish a piece of work?"
"No. I know there's another one still to do. It just makes me more depressed."
"I suppose it's that satisfaction that motivates me."
Ron fell silent. He crossed the bath and settled next to Hermione, his arm slipping round her waist beneath the water. They spent the next half an hour together, waiting until their clothes had dried.
"Harry must have finished detention by now." Ron said, glancing at his watch. "He'll wonder where we are. I'll head up. I'll tell him you're in the library or something. I'll tell him you're making socks to match the house elves' hats!"
Hermione pulled a face.
Ron heaved himself out of the bath, shivering in the sudden cold. He got dressed, unwillingly pulling the damp clothes around him.
"When do we next meet?" Ron asked, shaking his hair dry.
Hermione smiled warmly. "When you've finished all your homework. It can be your motivation."
Ron bit his lip. "That could be a long time."
Hermione's smile fell. She swam to Ron's side of the bath. "I wish we didn't have to sneak around like this."
"We don't have to." Ron said, unable to keep the eagerness from his voice. "If we just tell people, then we've got nothing to hide."
Hermione just shook her head. Her eyes began to glaze. Ron knew he would get nothing more from her. He picked up his broom and tucked his wand into his trouser pocket.
"See you later." he mumbled as he left.
It was an uncomfortable journey back to Gryffindor tower in his clammy clothes. Upon his arrival he threw himself down in front of an armchair by the fire. Harry was sat on the floor with his Divination dream diary sprawled out in front of him.
"Where've you been?" Harry asked, dropping his quill.
"I went for a walk. How was detention?"
Harry scowled at the fire as if he was imagining Umbridge's toad-like face burning amongst the embers.
Ron quickly changed the subject, unwilling to let Harry unleash one of his rage-filled rants in his direction. "How's the dream diary coming along?"
"Badly." Harry said, leaning forward and picking up his quill once more. "I'm out of ideas. What'd you dream of last night?"
"I was being mauled by a giant." Ron said, sighing. "I'm going to bed, I'm tired."
As Ron climbed the stairs, his lie hung around him, a weight upon his shoulders. Ron had never dreamt of giants, and recently there had only been one thing, one person, in his dreams.
When he reached the boy's dorm, Ron let his broom fall to the floor and set his wand upon his bedside table before reaching into his bag. With a throbbing head but a strong motivation, he began his most recent piece of Charms homework.
